


Don't sing if you want to live long

by Jay_the_bird



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Angst, Blood Drinking, M/M, Vampire Turning, Vampires, death? sort of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24270661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_the_bird/pseuds/Jay_the_bird
Summary: I wrote this while procrastinating on four other ficsEnjoy!-Jay
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV), Laszlo Cravensworth/Nadja
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	Don't sing if you want to live long

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while procrastinating on four other fics  
> Enjoy!
> 
> -Jay

Traditionally, when a new vampire is made, they are laid in a new, luxurious, and open casket for mortals to gaze upon their unholy beauty and despair. 

Nandor carries Guillermo to his own coffin, holding him as if he might break at the slightest touch. 

He looks small as he is laid down, curled up on his side, barely even breathing. After all, the coffin was made for a much taller man. Adjusting his curtains, Nandor watches a shaft of moonlight fall across Guillermo’s face before climbing in after him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. He can feel each rasping breath through Guillermo’s back, now pressed against his chest. Every heartbeat echoes in his ears. Guillermo groans, head lolling back onto Nandor’s shoulder, and Nandor feels a chill of fear. 

Turning doesn’t always go well. 

He remembers his own turning, the fire burning in his veins, consciousness slowly slipping from him and then – he remembers waking the most. Covered in sand, left for dead, walking for miles in the dead of night with nothing but an all-consuming thirst that water did not satisfy. 

He holds Guillermo a little closer, as if his arms can protect him from harm. There is nothing more he can do, and it grates at him, the helplessness of his situation. No action of his can keep Guillermo safe through this. He’s already done too much by turning him. Nandor presses his nose against Guillermo’s neck, calming himself. The moonlight drains them both of colour, until they look like a pair of tragic statues. Guillermo’s temperature is dropping, the remaining warmth leaving as he turns into something not-quite human. Nandor regrets this, trying to hold onto the memory of human-Guillermo, of his warmth, his fragility, of the things he treasured so much and must now let go for the sake of keeping Guillermo.

He wonders if Nadja felt like this, turning Laszlo, or if she fell for him later. He’s never asked. Perhaps he should have. Regrets swarm like flies in his head.

All he can do is lie still and listen to Guillermo’s heartbeat fading, stuttering out of existence. Nandor wonders if Guillermo will resent him for being turned. The memory of stakes piled in a minifridge haunts him. He knows Guillermo wanted to be turned so badly when he first became a familiar, but he doesn’t know how much that has changed. What if, being turned, Guillermo no longer wants anything to do with him? The thought scares him more than he will ever admit. The very idea of eternity without Guillermo is unacceptable. Nandor glances at the gap in the curtains before giving his attention back to Guillermo. 

For several hours, nothing moves. There is only the changing light to indicate that time is progressing at all, that it did not stop with Guillermo’s last shallow breaths. 

Then his head turns, almost imperceivably. Nandor pulls back, observing him carefully, willing him to move again. After several minutes of tense waiting, Guillermo opens his eyes, staring glassily ahead. Gently moving his arms back, Nandor attempts to give Guillermo as much space as possible in the coffin. 

“Guillermo?” He groans, struggling to move. “Guillermo, it’s me, Nandor.”

“Master.” Guillermo sighs, head rolling to one side, exposing his neck. Wanting to kiss it, Nandor has to use all his restraint. Instead, he brushes a hand against Guillermo’s cheek. “What happened to me?”

“You don’t remember?” He doesn’t want to think about the event of the night, much less discuss them with Guillermo.

“You turned me.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” His voice is raspy, rough with pain. 

“They wanted to kill you, Guillermo. I couldn’t let that happen.” The memory threatens to overwhelm him – a room full of hissing vampires and Guillermo their target. A stake pressing against his ribs, and the look of horror on his familiar’s face as he realised what he’d done. He remembers the taste of Guillermo’s blood in his mouth, and the pain as Guillermo reciprocated, drinking from him. 

“I tried to kill you” Guillermo breathes, hands trembling.

“You didn’t mean to.” No response. “I know you didn’t mean to.” He believes it with his whole heart, because if he doesn’t then it might break. However, Guillermo doesn’t say anything. 

“They’ll still want to kill me.” Guillermo replies eventually. He’s still quiet, each word an effort. 

“Don’t worry.” His hand brushes Guillermo’s shoulder. “I will take care of you.”


End file.
